Quietly strong people inspire me: the ones who make it look easy, and only after you find out the backstory do you realize you should have been asking them to mentor you.
Lately I've been realizing that's pretty much every mother I know. We could talk about the emotional and spiritual strength required in having children, but I think the spotlight needs to be put on the physical strength these women embody.
These bodies are incredible. During the 2016 summer Olympics, there was backlash for commenting on how the female athletes were competing so soon after having babies. While I agree that women are far more than their ability to give birth, they should also be applauded for the physical dominance they show with the ability to not only give life but compete athletically.
Now, you should know, I considered not writing this. Because I know there will be eye rolls. And people writing this off as being overly dramatic. And quieted because "it's worth it"...
I have a confession. The phrase "It's worth it" is a pet peeve of mine. Every time I hear it I want to respond, "Of course it's worth it, that's why I'm DOING it."
But the value of the outcome does not magically negate the difficulty of the process.
Not only is the difficulty survived, I know woman after woman who has pulled it off with grace. So this is for...
The woman who feels like puking for 2000+ hours... and still makes breakfast for her family.
The woman who silently suffers through a minefield of hormones and unwelcome thoughts postpartum... and still holds her baby gently.
The woman who has lived through enough scars and blood loss to last a lifetime... and says "I'm willing to do this again."
The woman who has endured weeks of labor, waiting for her body to progress... all while still showing up at work with a smile on her face.
The woman who has been confined to a bed for months... and goes back to bench pressing.
The woman who spends days breathing through body-wracking muscle contractions... and then gets up every two hours round the clock for the next month.
The woman who lost so much blood she was close to dying... and walks to the NICU every day for weeks after.
The woman who has a dozen stitches still fresh in her core... and climbs the stairs to care for her older children.
The woman who undergoes week after week of painful procedures to ensure a full term baby... and after each appointment continues to take care of her household.
The woman who is plagued by pain every time she takes a step... and still picks up her two-year-old when they're crying.
Every woman who has poured their life blood into another person, and been expected to act like it's just ordinary.
You are extraordinary.
You are resilient.
You are the strongest people I know.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Dear Heart, Do You Believe in Goodness?
"Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live." Psalm 23:6
Oh, dear heart.
Do you believe that? Do you really believe?
Only goodness.
Goodness: "a good thing, benefit, welfare."
I feel pursued by everything else - stress, anxiety, questions, the need to do more - while goodness, that deep and rich and fill-your-belly satisfaction, is elusive.
I've always thought of goodness as something to be pursued, not something pursuing me.
But then, really, that was because I was thinking of goodness as a work and not a Person.
The word for "faithful love" and "mercy" literally means "covenant loyalty."
In other words, "I'm not going anywhere."
Sticking with me.
Tailing me.
No matter how I twist and turn and stumble and even, at times, forcibly push... "I'm not going anywhere."
I'm not going anywhere doesn't mean He stays in one spot and I wander away and come back and wander and return and live out this restless cycle of lonely works.
I'm not going anywhere means I'm stuck to your side.
We're in this together.
Just try and leave.
I won't.
Only The Benefactor and His covenant loyalty will be in pursuit of me every time I draw breath.
Ah, David! What did you know? How did you know? How did you cling so tenaciously to the character of a Savior not yet born?
"Surely goodness and mercy..."
Surely.
Not hopefully.
Not eventually.
Oh, it is sure.
I want your heart. I want to get it, really get it.
So I can say surely.
So I can say with confidence that God's home is my dwelling.
Home.
His home.
Where the heart is.
Where He rests.
Where there is peace.
Where He invites.
Where He is always present, touching every bit of decor and piece of furniture, His presence ever evident.
Do I dwell there? Or do I still feel like an uninvited guest?
Do I take that as an invitation for now? Not just a "someday I'll go be with Him in His house, and until then I've just go to make it through"eventuality, but now.
"I will dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life."
That includes the earthly ones.
Oh, dear heart.
Do you believe that? Do you really believe?
Only goodness.
Goodness: "a good thing, benefit, welfare."
I feel pursued by everything else - stress, anxiety, questions, the need to do more - while goodness, that deep and rich and fill-your-belly satisfaction, is elusive.
I've always thought of goodness as something to be pursued, not something pursuing me.
But then, really, that was because I was thinking of goodness as a work and not a Person.
The word for "faithful love" and "mercy" literally means "covenant loyalty."
In other words, "I'm not going anywhere."
Sticking with me.
Tailing me.
No matter how I twist and turn and stumble and even, at times, forcibly push... "I'm not going anywhere."
I'm not going anywhere doesn't mean He stays in one spot and I wander away and come back and wander and return and live out this restless cycle of lonely works.
I'm not going anywhere means I'm stuck to your side.
We're in this together.
Just try and leave.
I won't.
Only The Benefactor and His covenant loyalty will be in pursuit of me every time I draw breath.
Ah, David! What did you know? How did you know? How did you cling so tenaciously to the character of a Savior not yet born?
"Surely goodness and mercy..."
Surely.
Not hopefully.
Not eventually.
Oh, it is sure.
I want your heart. I want to get it, really get it.
So I can say surely.
So I can say with confidence that God's home is my dwelling.
Home.
His home.
Where the heart is.
Where He rests.
Where there is peace.
Where He invites.
Where He is always present, touching every bit of decor and piece of furniture, His presence ever evident.
Do I dwell there? Or do I still feel like an uninvited guest?
Do I take that as an invitation for now? Not just a "someday I'll go be with Him in His house, and until then I've just go to make it through"eventuality, but now.
"I will dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life."
That includes the earthly ones.
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
Standing is Hard
"I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God." Luke 1:19
What a way to introduce yourself.
Gabriel, messenger for God. Gabriel, who brought the news of the coming Messiah. Gabriel, warrior and angelic being. How does he choose to introduce himself?
He just stands next to God.
Just stands.
Allow me a soft laugh. "Just." It makes it sound like a simple task.
But standing is hard.
Standing is being present, but not yet participating.
Standing is having every attention and energy at the ready, or else your place is lost.
Standing is not moving too soon, or else the force and speed that, in a second, will be cheered and encouraged, will instead be the disqualifying move.
That moment before the gun sounds.
The second preceding momentum.
Baited breath.
Coiled muscles.
There's nothing relaxed about waiting.
In concluding a letter laced with discovering our identity and the keys to living as Christ's witnesses, Paul describes the clothing that must be worn:
A belt.
A breastplate.
A shield.
A helmet.
A sword.
Truth.
Righteousness.
Faith.
Salvation.
Holy Spirit.
Feet fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. From head to toe, equipped with battle armor. Ready for anything. Perfectly fitted for engaging in combat.
And what are we, fully outfitted, told to do?
Stand.
"Therefore put on the full armor of God, that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm, then..." Ephesians 6:13-14a
Not "go into battle."
Stand.
Not "conquer the land."
Stand.
Not "be a mighty warrior."
Stand.
Oh, but standing is hard.
When all the battle is raging in my ears and running before my eyes and my mind is as fast and restless as both senses. When everyone is watching and waiting and I feel like the decision needs to be made soon, or else I certainly will miss the window.
Just stand.
Just.
So now I find myself asking, "Gabriel, what is your secret?"
To stand in the very presence of God - every secret laid bare!
To stand and not flee - anywhere on earth would be easier!
To stand and take it all in without exploding - what capacity is required!
To stand in patience.
To stand in perpetual readiness.
To stand with eager ears, but not a bitter heart.
You must trust Him a lot.
Trust that His timing is perfect.
Trust that His ways are always good.
Trust that His judgment will triumph.
Trust that His action will be sufficient.
Trust that just standing is actually a beautiful place to be.
What a way to introduce yourself.
Gabriel, messenger for God. Gabriel, who brought the news of the coming Messiah. Gabriel, warrior and angelic being. How does he choose to introduce himself?
He just stands next to God.
Just stands.
Allow me a soft laugh. "Just." It makes it sound like a simple task.
But standing is hard.
Standing is being present, but not yet participating.
Standing is having every attention and energy at the ready, or else your place is lost.
Standing is not moving too soon, or else the force and speed that, in a second, will be cheered and encouraged, will instead be the disqualifying move.
That moment before the gun sounds.
The second preceding momentum.
Baited breath.
Coiled muscles.
There's nothing relaxed about waiting.
In concluding a letter laced with discovering our identity and the keys to living as Christ's witnesses, Paul describes the clothing that must be worn:
A belt.
A breastplate.
A shield.
A helmet.
A sword.
Truth.
Righteousness.
Faith.
Salvation.
Holy Spirit.
Feet fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. From head to toe, equipped with battle armor. Ready for anything. Perfectly fitted for engaging in combat.
And what are we, fully outfitted, told to do?
Stand.
"Therefore put on the full armor of God, that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm, then..." Ephesians 6:13-14a
Not "go into battle."
Stand.
Not "conquer the land."
Stand.
Not "be a mighty warrior."
Stand.
Oh, but standing is hard.
When all the battle is raging in my ears and running before my eyes and my mind is as fast and restless as both senses. When everyone is watching and waiting and I feel like the decision needs to be made soon, or else I certainly will miss the window.
Just stand.
Just.
So now I find myself asking, "Gabriel, what is your secret?"
To stand in the very presence of God - every secret laid bare!
To stand and not flee - anywhere on earth would be easier!
To stand and take it all in without exploding - what capacity is required!
To stand in patience.
To stand in perpetual readiness.
To stand with eager ears, but not a bitter heart.
You must trust Him a lot.
Trust that His timing is perfect.
Trust that His ways are always good.
Trust that His judgment will triumph.
Trust that His action will be sufficient.
Trust that just standing is actually a beautiful place to be.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
We're All Lonely
According to Meyers-Briggs, I am an extrovert.
On paper this means that I converse easily with strangers and make connections easily.
In the eyes of the world, this means I have piles of friends and never have to worry about being lonely.
I have been, at times, annoyed by the increasing amount of articles expressing the needs and habits of introverts. There was something bugging me about the idea that they were the odd ones out in a world of "normal" people. However, after a conversation with a wonderful introvert who informed me that the internet is simply an easier platform to express the feeling, I began to see the pattern in every article:
I'm lonely. Please try to understand me.
I'm lonely. Please tell me I'm special.
I'm lonely. Please show me I'm worth something.
And that cry, in all its simple pain, is not reserved for one personality type.
Let me clear up a misconception: extroverts don't always have it easy either. I have struggled with loneliness in my own life. But it's not reserved to only me.
I would be willing to bet that every single person has felt lonely at some point in their life. And just at the moment you think you've found someone to cure that, the relationship changes, and it's difficult again. Why?
It would be so much easier to have other people exactly like ourselves, and then we could just be comfortable for the rest of our lives being exactly what we were 10 years ago and exactly what we'll be in 20 years.
But that's not how we were designed.
We were designed to complete each other, not just approve of each other. It's what makes us grow, what smooths out our rough edges. A little loneliness goes a long way in pushing us to pursue.
I used to be on the lookout for the person who would "get" me completely - share all my thoughts and opinions and understand all my moods and idiosyncrasies. Then I discovered this Proverb: "Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy."
While some may find that utterly depressing, I found it incredibly freeing. I didn't have to look for that person anymore, I didn't have to feel as if I was missing out on a friendship somewhere. No, I'm never going to find that person. Because they don't exist. Because if such a person existed, I would no longer be unique.
In essence, it's okay to feel lonely.
Because we all are.
No one is exempt from feeling like the odd one out, whether on the edge of the room all alone, or standing in the middle of a crowd surrounded by people who have no clue who the real you is.
We're all looking.
We all want to be loved.
We all need to be pursued.
But what if all this "understand how we're different" actually perpetuates the problem? Shouldn't we be focusing on where we're the same?
We all have a skeleton (or two) hanging in the closet.
We all want inside jokes and pizza night traditions and knowing looks.
Maybe loneliness is simply the first step, laying the path to begin that "Yeah, I know... me too" conversation with your future best friend five years from now.
We're made to be together.
But oddly, loneliness is often what gets us together in the first place.
And so it drives us to pursue others. To thrill when someone has an "aha" moment as we're explaining ourselves. To keep running after the other pieces of ourselves that are scattered across the globe, hidden in souls of all variety and ages. To not give up the dream of wholeness, but to instead pick up our battered hearts and say, "I will be vulnerable again."
Loneliness, in a way, is the only thing that keeps community alive.
Personality types are a wonderful way to get to know someone. But please, use it as a way to get to know someone, not as an excuse to think you already know them.
Maybe then we'll get the chance to turn all this loneliness into friendship.
On paper this means that I converse easily with strangers and make connections easily.
In the eyes of the world, this means I have piles of friends and never have to worry about being lonely.
I have been, at times, annoyed by the increasing amount of articles expressing the needs and habits of introverts. There was something bugging me about the idea that they were the odd ones out in a world of "normal" people. However, after a conversation with a wonderful introvert who informed me that the internet is simply an easier platform to express the feeling, I began to see the pattern in every article:
I'm lonely. Please try to understand me.
I'm lonely. Please tell me I'm special.
I'm lonely. Please show me I'm worth something.
And that cry, in all its simple pain, is not reserved for one personality type.
Let me clear up a misconception: extroverts don't always have it easy either. I have struggled with loneliness in my own life. But it's not reserved to only me.
I would be willing to bet that every single person has felt lonely at some point in their life. And just at the moment you think you've found someone to cure that, the relationship changes, and it's difficult again. Why?
It would be so much easier to have other people exactly like ourselves, and then we could just be comfortable for the rest of our lives being exactly what we were 10 years ago and exactly what we'll be in 20 years.
But that's not how we were designed.
We were designed to complete each other, not just approve of each other. It's what makes us grow, what smooths out our rough edges. A little loneliness goes a long way in pushing us to pursue.
I used to be on the lookout for the person who would "get" me completely - share all my thoughts and opinions and understand all my moods and idiosyncrasies. Then I discovered this Proverb: "Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy."
While some may find that utterly depressing, I found it incredibly freeing. I didn't have to look for that person anymore, I didn't have to feel as if I was missing out on a friendship somewhere. No, I'm never going to find that person. Because they don't exist. Because if such a person existed, I would no longer be unique.
In essence, it's okay to feel lonely.
Because we all are.
No one is exempt from feeling like the odd one out, whether on the edge of the room all alone, or standing in the middle of a crowd surrounded by people who have no clue who the real you is.
We're all looking.
We all want to be loved.
We all need to be pursued.
But what if all this "understand how we're different" actually perpetuates the problem? Shouldn't we be focusing on where we're the same?
We all have a skeleton (or two) hanging in the closet.
We all want inside jokes and pizza night traditions and knowing looks.
Maybe loneliness is simply the first step, laying the path to begin that "Yeah, I know... me too" conversation with your future best friend five years from now.
We're made to be together.
But oddly, loneliness is often what gets us together in the first place.
And so it drives us to pursue others. To thrill when someone has an "aha" moment as we're explaining ourselves. To keep running after the other pieces of ourselves that are scattered across the globe, hidden in souls of all variety and ages. To not give up the dream of wholeness, but to instead pick up our battered hearts and say, "I will be vulnerable again."
Loneliness, in a way, is the only thing that keeps community alive.
Personality types are a wonderful way to get to know someone. But please, use it as a way to get to know someone, not as an excuse to think you already know them.
Maybe then we'll get the chance to turn all this loneliness into friendship.
1 Corinthians 13
If I never get the opportunity to be a martyr, if I live a long and happy life in a comfortable and safe home, that doesn't make me a failure. Because I have God's love, and that is my identity.
If I never become well known for my spiritual insights, if I am not lauded for influencing millions, that's okay. Because loving God and loving others is just as important in the quiet as in the limelight.
If I don't see miraculous healing and inexplicable wonders after I pray, I'm not less of a Christian. Because God loves me from His own goodness, not my performance.
To perform a single action because love could no longer be contained inside is worlds better than a million actions performed out of duty.
Because love...
Well, love has a good attitude even when there's no guarantee someone will change.
Love isn't always assuming the grass is greener on the other side; but she also doesn't crow about it when the grass is greener on her side.
Love isn't so concerned with appearances that she reveals uncomfortable truths in front of others just to save face.
You can't rile love up by snide remarks and petty insults, she's not looking for a fight. And at the end of the day, she wipes the slate clean - no ammunition for tomorrow's disagreements.
Love doesn't enjoy the pain of others, and neither is she looking for easier ways to just avoid the issue. No, love wants to get to the heart of the matter so we can be whole instead of bandaged but bleeding.
Love listens when someone is hurting, takes the time to put aside quick assumptions and truly hear; is always in your corner, confident that you'll succeed, not even giving the time of day to disillusionment and unmet expectations; and never turns the cold shoulder, no matter how tempting it is to run away emotionally.
Love is in this for the beautiful long haul.
Everything else is just a piece of the picture. Love is everything from the canvas to the artist's hand.
Essentially, love is about growing up. And as I get older, I'm finally realizing that it knits everything together, from our first infant steps to our dying breath.
I don't fully understand it yet, but I'm beginning to get little glimpses.
Faith gives me eyes.
Hope keeps me standing.
But love... must be described with more than words.
~ A personal reflection on 1 Corinthians 13
If I never become well known for my spiritual insights, if I am not lauded for influencing millions, that's okay. Because loving God and loving others is just as important in the quiet as in the limelight.
If I don't see miraculous healing and inexplicable wonders after I pray, I'm not less of a Christian. Because God loves me from His own goodness, not my performance.
To perform a single action because love could no longer be contained inside is worlds better than a million actions performed out of duty.
Because love...
Well, love has a good attitude even when there's no guarantee someone will change.
Love isn't always assuming the grass is greener on the other side; but she also doesn't crow about it when the grass is greener on her side.
Love isn't so concerned with appearances that she reveals uncomfortable truths in front of others just to save face.
You can't rile love up by snide remarks and petty insults, she's not looking for a fight. And at the end of the day, she wipes the slate clean - no ammunition for tomorrow's disagreements.
Love doesn't enjoy the pain of others, and neither is she looking for easier ways to just avoid the issue. No, love wants to get to the heart of the matter so we can be whole instead of bandaged but bleeding.
Love listens when someone is hurting, takes the time to put aside quick assumptions and truly hear; is always in your corner, confident that you'll succeed, not even giving the time of day to disillusionment and unmet expectations; and never turns the cold shoulder, no matter how tempting it is to run away emotionally.
Love is in this for the beautiful long haul.
Everything else is just a piece of the picture. Love is everything from the canvas to the artist's hand.
Essentially, love is about growing up. And as I get older, I'm finally realizing that it knits everything together, from our first infant steps to our dying breath.
I don't fully understand it yet, but I'm beginning to get little glimpses.
Faith gives me eyes.
Hope keeps me standing.
But love... must be described with more than words.
~ A personal reflection on 1 Corinthians 13
Monday, May 18, 2015
I Took a Picture Tonight
I took a picture tonight.
It's not artistic.
It's not pretty.
It's actually a terrible picture.
But I love it.
It's a picture of our couch.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
That view...
That view alone is nothing without the feelings and intangibles which I know surround it.
The clock ticking.
The quiet hum of the appliances.
The low light.
The settled, quiet feeling in my core.
That view is what I see after our communion nights are done.
The dishes have been brought to the kitchen.
The chairs slid back into their places.
Everyone else is in bed as I finish my labor of love.
And when it's finished, I take one final look back through the house to make sure I haven't missed anything.
And that is my view.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
No, I haven't missed anything.
When I see that view, I'm thinking about the people who just filled that couch from end to end. I'm thinking of the honest hearts and hopeful lives that utterly consume the currently empty spaces in front of my eyes. I'm feeling the peace that settles after being joined in earnest prayer. I'm hearing the calm of a house that has no fear of being alone. I'm recalling the array of Bibles and journals and notepads and laptops and phones and minds that soaked up and overflowed and contemplated and questioned and discovered and journeyed together to find purpose and direction and confirmation on that very floor.
I am blessed.
So radically blessed.
I know that not all people get attached to places, to things.
But I do.
Views. Sights. Smells.
They're mile markers.
The distance will be covered regardless, but little markers along the way remind me of where I'm going and what a beautiful road it's going to be.
This is one of those.
My mind is choosing to remember this oh-so-simple view, because wrapped up in it is the peace in my belly that is so incredibly fierce it almost overwhelms me with how expansive it is.
To use a cliche, my heart is full every time I see this view.
To be less cliche, my soul is trying to figure out what it is that's going on here... because I need to be able to carry it with me. That dimly lit couch needs to translate someday.
For now, it's perfect the way it is.
It's not artistic.
It's not pretty.
It's actually a terrible picture.
But I love it.
It's a picture of our couch.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
That view...
That view alone is nothing without the feelings and intangibles which I know surround it.
The clock ticking.
The quiet hum of the appliances.
The low light.
The settled, quiet feeling in my core.
That view is what I see after our communion nights are done.
The dishes have been brought to the kitchen.
The chairs slid back into their places.
Everyone else is in bed as I finish my labor of love.
And when it's finished, I take one final look back through the house to make sure I haven't missed anything.
And that is my view.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
No, I haven't missed anything.
When I see that view, I'm thinking about the people who just filled that couch from end to end. I'm thinking of the honest hearts and hopeful lives that utterly consume the currently empty spaces in front of my eyes. I'm feeling the peace that settles after being joined in earnest prayer. I'm hearing the calm of a house that has no fear of being alone. I'm recalling the array of Bibles and journals and notepads and laptops and phones and minds that soaked up and overflowed and contemplated and questioned and discovered and journeyed together to find purpose and direction and confirmation on that very floor.
I am blessed.
So radically blessed.
I know that not all people get attached to places, to things.
But I do.
Views. Sights. Smells.
They're mile markers.
The distance will be covered regardless, but little markers along the way remind me of where I'm going and what a beautiful road it's going to be.
This is one of those.
My mind is choosing to remember this oh-so-simple view, because wrapped up in it is the peace in my belly that is so incredibly fierce it almost overwhelms me with how expansive it is.
To use a cliche, my heart is full every time I see this view.
To be less cliche, my soul is trying to figure out what it is that's going on here... because I need to be able to carry it with me. That dimly lit couch needs to translate someday.
For now, it's perfect the way it is.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Is it Love?
"What you call 'love' isn’t actually love."
I have heard several times over the years that the love you have as a young person, especially young married people, is not actually love. Saying “I love you” actually means “I lust after you.” Saying “I love you” actually means “I love the way you make me feel.” Saying “I love you” just means “I need you.” It’s a feeling. It’s an emotion. It’s not the real thing.
I’m here to argue that it is the real thing.
Yep, you heard me right.
That is love. It’s just young love.
Would you tell me that a kitten is not a cat? Would you tell me that a seed is not a tree? Would you tell me that the baby growing in a mother’s womb is not the next world-changer?
Well, maybe not yet. But the powerful paws of a lynx are present in the tiny ball of fur still mewing for attention. The height and majesty of a mighty redwood simply need time and water to emerge from that tiny seed. The healing hands and gentle heart of a physician simply need to be nurtured and cared for to mature from the toddling child.
Young love is still love.
If it wasn’t, how could it ever grow to be “real” love?
Will I tell my child, “No, you don’t actually love me. Love is a verb. Love is an action. Love is commitment even when you don’t feel like it,” when he pauses in the middle of tossing a ball to remind me of his affection?
Will I tell my husband, “No, you just like the way I make you feel. If you really loved me, you would sacrifice more for me,” when he puts his arms around me when he knows I’m upset with him?
Would Jesus tell the repentant sinner, “No, you don’t love me, you’re still sinful and immature and need a few more years to realize just how much I’ve done for you,” when she pours out her wounded heart to Him?
No.
This is love. It’s just young love.
It’s growing. Yes, I will grant you, it is still growing and has a lot of growing up still left to do.
But don’t tell me it’s not love.
Don’t tell me this passionate, crazy, emotional, love-you/hate-you, can’t-control-it, stumbling, eager, desperate, needy, confused-and-yet-still-so-sure feeling isn’t love. Because it is.
When my passionate, intense, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve object of desire asked me to be his wife, I tried not to be too silly about it.
I tried to maintain composure. Not be socially awkward. Keep my cool.
Because I had heard so many mature adults look down on young love. The rolled eyes. The knowing looks. The “give it a few months” comments. The dissension over emotions that couldn’t be controlled.
And so, I purposed to not be like them. I was going to be mature. I was going to have this “real love” business right from the start.
What a bunch of crap.
The problem is, you can’t have “real love” from the start. You can’t have a chicken without the egg. Come on.
So instead of enjoying the “not real love” kind of love, I stifled it. Tried to act like I was more mature than that. And didn’t really succeed at that either. (Chicken before the egg problem, remember?) And by extension, I didn’t succeed at the emotions or the maturity, just did a belly flop somewhere in the middle.
Ouch.
(a pause, a reflection)
I like going to weddings.
I like seeing silly, ridiculous love.
Because it reminds me that the love I am developing now (yes, it’s love!) shouldn’t just be an action. It should be an action. But it shouldn’t be just an action.
Love is not limited to one dimension.
Love is friendship.
Love is commitment.
Love is passion.
Love is unconditional even when conditions are set against it.
Love is an action, but that action is filled with all the depth and beauty of life-long passion. One of my favorite quotes from Mike Bickle: Lovers will out-work servants every day.
There are times in a marriage covenant to serve and stick it out and push through. But that shouldn’t be the be-all, end-all litmus test for true love. True love is intense. It is sold-out to the point of insanity.
Love isn’t giving everything there is to give, love is giving everything you have to give.
So to all you lovebirds, to all you crazy and emotional people out there, what you have is love. That is not an invitation to be frivolous or flippant with it. No, quite the contrary; if you know that what you have in your hands and heart is the precious seed of age-old selflessness, you treat it with incredible care.
Recognizing feelings as love does not give further license to throw love away, instead it fosters awe and respect for the insurmountable potential our newly developed feelings can have.
This is love. So treat it with care.
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